Forged in fire
by iamemeraldfox
Summary: "You are a conqueror, Daenerys Stormborn." There was never a word more fitting to describe her, no matter the world, no matter the people she led to battle. Even landing in the Elemental Countries can't change a dragon.


The throne room is huge, full of wide stone columns and carvings of beasts and dragons perched as silent protectors. Fires burn brightly, chasing away any shadows not already banished by big stained glass windows. There is a sense of might here, an ageless beauty despite the building's recent construction.

Daenerys nods at the architects and Doton workers standing on one side and sees them swell with pride at her approval. What a difference it makes, for a man to be useful for things other than war. She can feel them change, coming finally into their own. Finding a better purpose.

She steps forward, her soldiers going around her to take their posts by each of the wall columns, her advisers following behind her. There is a throne before her, beckoning her with its power. It represents everything she worked for all these months, trapped in a foreign land. Her steps take her to it, a giant crystal grown into shape. It reflects light perfectly to accent its Queen, made by a ninja with a rare bloodline limit. Her architect really outdid himself.

Daenerys climbs the steps, feeling the weight of her kingdom settle finally on her shoulders. She turns to the now full hall, at the hopeful and reverent faces. She brought them hope, she knows. She brought with her a vision of a better future, of a world made free.

Slowly she sits and the throne is cold against her body despite the warm air.

her trusted advisor steps forward, addressing the crowd with wide eyes and a proud tilt of her head. "Stormborn Daenerys, the Promised Ruler of the Elemental Nations, the Daughter of the Eternal Flame, Queen of the Land of Wind, the Rivers, the Fire. She who was promised to us all," she calls, and Daenerys is once again reminded of Missandei. It doesn't hurt as much anymore, the remainder of the life before she landed in this world.

"Long live the queen!"

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" the crowd cheers, one by one falling to their knees before her.

She looks upon them for a long moment, the weight of their conviction finally, finally sinking into her bones. They are not a means to an end any more. They are not a source of knowledge to exploit to bring her home, pawns to reach her ultimate goal. They are a people, _her_ people. They are hers to command, hers to lead.

"I did not know you, when I first came to this world," she starts. "You were a strange land, brutal and harsh, fractured and broken." Her voice carries over them and she meets their eyes, draws them in. "But then I met you. Each and every one of you. I have learned your dreams, your hopes for a world free of death and destruction. I've seen wonders and I've seen the beauty you are capable of bringing into the world. You all love, so much. You love your families, your clans, your villages, your countries. You love your bodies and your bloodlines and your strengths. Your love is overflowing, and yet it was chained in a wheel of death." So much death, it took her breath away. It always does, when she sees suffering. "Now here we are. Together. We are united, we are strong. Rise with me," she calls to them, standing with her arm outstretched, reaching into their hearts and pulling them all to their feet with her. "Rise with me, from the ashes of your battlefields, with all your love and devotion. Rise, and together, we will break the wheel that holds us chained. Rise with me to victory!"

"Victory!" voices echo off the great walls, and Daenerys's heart fills with fire. She will not stop. She will not cease until she makes these people hers. Every. Last. One.

* * *

The sun has long set, only the flickering flames giving light. Despite that, her throne all but glows. She pays it no mind, lost in thought, planning the battles to come, the alliances she has to make. She feels him beside her by the heat he gives off. She never hears him, his steps too silent for her ears to detect.

She turns and smiles at him, admiring his dark skin and how his red hair appears to burn in the firelight.

"Daenerys," he rumbles, one clawed hand gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"Do you have news for me," she asks mildly, feeling tired after a long day yet alert in his presence.

"I received word from Saiken. Utakata and the generals are ready to take Uzushio ruins and the rest of the islands."

"Do they have enough soldiers to protect the researchers," she asks, mind sharpening. Uzushio was an ally to Konoha and she got a lot of support when she promised to rebuild the village. It was the fuuinjutsu that first attracted her interest, a promise of information that could send her home. She looks at the man beside her, wondering at how much the situation has changed. How _she_ has changed.

"More than enough. And Kokuo plans to stay with them."

She hums, pleased.

"We are as ready as we can be. Let's do this."

Kyuubi's grin is sharp and his red eyes glow as embers as they turn inwards, reaching across nations towards his siblings.

"Your will is done, my queen," he says, slightly mocking at her title. She ignores it, grinning in satisfaction.

"Do you plan to leave, little queen," he draws her attention, his face inscrutable. There is a new sense of danger in the air. She says nothing, waiting.

He scoffs. "I have been imprisoned in Uzumaki Mito's soul long enough. I know the power Uzushio holds. Their most powerful seals can alter space and time itself. They might even open a path to other worlds. This knowledge was always the reason you funded and encouraged all the researchers and scholars, human, you cannot fool me." There is rage in his eyes, a rare sight these days. It reminds her of those first few weeks when he was almost drunk with it after she freed him from his chains.

"Is that what you fear," she asks, but she already knows the answer.

"I could crush you, ant. I could tear you apart, feast on your flesh-"

She stands, and he does not move as her hands reach to frame his face. He is terrifying like this, his chakra leaking out of his makeshift body, forming gigantic tails that overtake her vision. His chakra curls over her skin and doesn't burn. She is a Targaryen, and fire is in her blood. It has been a long time since she feared monsters.

With a smile, she pulls him into a kiss, hot like a flame and sharp with fangs. She licks his lips, tasting inferno and grins when he whines against her mouth. She deepens the kiss, her fingers tangling in his coarse hair. She imagines this is what power tastes like. He grabs her by the hips and pulls her to him, anger turned to passion ready to consume her. She can feel her clothing disintegrating at his touch and doesn't care. He is all around her and she never felt more powerful.

She pulls back to look into his eyes, slit pupils blown so large they almost consume the red of his iris.

"You are mine now, Kurama. All of you, this whole world. You are _mine_. I'm not going _anywhere_ ," she growls and is rewarded with a hitch in his breath.

He pulls her tighter to him, his hands growing bigger as they clutch at her skin, his face only half human now. She feels the thrill of the knowledge she is the cause of his loss of control. As kin to monsters, she certainly doesn't mind.


End file.
